to Bryan. For an electrifying second he was sure she was nude! He could see her tail cleft clearly, then he saw the nearly transparent panties and bra. Fantastic sun-tanned curvaceousness… shoulders and hips and fabulous ass!
Bryan shuddered to the storm of fifteen-year-old runaway libido and knew too late he had been stupid to come to his lawn work morning at the Pritchard place in bathing trunks.
Partly for comfort in early morning summer sun, but mostly for wanting to show off a bod that his fetish for conditioning had made sleek, he had come clad in nylon blue and white striped and too small swim trunks. One stripe now stood in a bold vertical as he gaped at cock-crazing Mrs. Pritchard.
A major problem Bryan had had for the years since his adolescence began was a lightning sex response. Instant erection! Not a gradual, creeping, stretching thing like he read other guys had. Bryan's penis stormed to total hard-on as if someone had flipped the taut string of a bow and sent the arrow flying. His cock was a fierce and rigid pole against the dangerously thin trunks.
Frantic panic swept him. What would happen when Mrs. Pritchard uncoiled from her crouch and faced him with all her goodies on display under those see-through undies? Bryan, you dumb-ass! His fright at exposure doubled when he realized how dependent he'd been on a way to relieve his sex fever over the three females of 106 Coral Way. How many times he blessed this very barn garage as his escape place to relieve himself when one or the other girl, in various states of undress, had stimulated him by strolling by his mowing en route to the pool. Inside Bryan had a curious warning that gave him a fast tingle just before his penis shot to hard. Always before he'd made it to the barn garage in time and gotten it off in private.
None of the Pritchards had ever came into the barn… till now. And this was the one he thought least bothered him. Denise Pritchard had to be in her thirties, he'd decided, and while she was a beautiful woman, thirty was way over the hill, which accounted for the fact she always wore dresses. Probably to hide the wrinkies, he had suspected. Her daughters in their string bikinis were the stuff of his sex heat and from his bedroom window next door he'd masturbated at them hundreds of times as they walked outside or were careless with the bedroom or bathroom shades.
He'd suspected them of staging the forgetfulness to give him a show, but dismissed that. His room and bath faced Mrs. Pritchard's room and bath. When Sandy or Pammy were visiting in that room, he could see them, usually in undies.
It was an uncomfortable stimulus for Bryan – his girl undies excitement. He'd heard olders make cracks about perverts and their arousal over intimate garments and always squirmed. Girls in scanty panties and peekaboo bras were absolutely maddening. Lots more so than the babes who thought they were so sexy without anything underneath. A woman with barely enough cover over her goodies – even in a lingerie catalogue – sent him up a tree with excitement.
Like now! He dropped to his knees at Mrs. Pritchard's side, pretending concern but almost overcome by his discovery of the hidden beauty that had been there all the time in the grown-up lady next door.
'What can I do to help?' His voice was brittle with tension as he gawked at her torrid body profile stretching to try to make the garden hose attach to what appeared a small water wheel.
'Why… Bryan, how nice of you to offer!' Her face smiled into his and she caught his flush. 'You don't mind me in this get-up, do you? The girls got it for my birthday and I just love it. It doesn't have many secrets.'
'Looks neat!' choked Bryan, overwhelmed with frantic fear that his hard-on nudging against the trunks top was about to leap into view. 'Lemme have that!' He reached for the pliers she held. 'Man's work.'
'No. Tell you what, Bryan. You go back over by the faucet there on the wall and while I twist this coupler, you turn the water pressure up… okay?'
Better than okay! 'Sure, Mrs. Pritchard!' He almost ran, relieved to escape to the assigned task that would put him behind her again and able to do what he had to do… FAST!
His erection was out of his trunks and hot in his hand when he reached the wall five steps away. His back to her, he looked over his shoulder. 'Tell me when,' he said.
'Just give me a little bit now,' cooed the flame-haired, sun-burnished sexpot, never moving from her maddening crouch.
Oh, God! To have that gorgeous female stack of wriggly body and super boobies crouched over his naked body like that! Bryan's imagination fused with his tortured libido and he took the chance. Holding the faucet with one hand and his prick with the other, he spun around and stood spreadlegged and brazen, masturbating himself at the dazzling female five yards away.
'Eeeeehhh… we've got him!' A flash bulb flared simultaneously with the rope swirling down from the overhead loft. With gymnasts' timing, the twins somersaulted from overhead to the straw-covered floor, Sandy holding tightly to the end of her lasso and Pammy happily waving her camera.
'We got him, Mommy… lookee!'
They had done exactly that. Trapped painfully in a savage rope knot that clamped his arm in place at his hip and binding tightly at his wrist to force him to continue gripping his bared cock, Bryan was horrified captive.
Fear and shock at his exposure racked him and even as three mercilessly staring females watched their prize of war, his hard-on began to fold.
'Mommy… look! He's losing it!'
Brayn knew he would never forget the performance of Mrs. Pritchard as she straightened from her crouch, stood slowly and confidently, posing to give him full impact. Transparent panties and bra, only the hint of their edging visible, accented her ripe, wonderful lines. Hard and bold against the centers of her bra stood taut nipples.
'Look at my daughters, young man! Don't look at me!' Her manner was no longer kindly Mrs. Pritchard. She was devil witch in charge as she strolled casually to where he trembled against the wall, still trapped with his now softened penis in his hand, the rope grating warningly when he squirmed.
She was a man-crazing female. Red hair lay across her shoulders and curled along the curve of her breasts, as if planned to accent their thrust. The wild nipples stood like bullseyes in the center of the flame-scarlet tresses. But it was her pubic mound that Bryan couldn't escape staring at, in spite of his terror.
Denise Pritchard had no triangle of dark hair. Even her daughters had that, Bryan knew from glimpses of the girls in their mother's bathroom when the shade had been forgotten. Mrs. Pritchard had a flesh triangle that was a lust center. Her mons rose like a tiny hill under her panties. Her cunty cleft was a clear dark line barely visible before it disappeared with the inflaming curvature of her pubes into her crotch.
'Look at it, Bryan!' taunted Sandy beside him, frustrated that her mother had center stage. 'Doesn't bother you at all, does it?'
'Whuh… what's goin' on… hey… please!' pleaded the captive sagging against the barn wall and straightening instantly to the prick of splintery wood on his ass cheeks.
'You are in a medieval dungeon.' Mrs. Pritchard turned, pointing to the barrel wheel she had been attaching the hose to. 'This is where we punish prisoners with a potency problem.'
'Aw, hey!' No sensible word wanted to form as Bryan tried to absorb her meaning. Instead, he was feeling those violent inner vibrations that warned he was losing control. Last desperate try to make sense out of what had overthrown his private world of girl lusting for the next door neighbors. 'I don't… guh… gosh… understaaannnn…'
'You don't have to!' giggled Pammy, the plight of super-body Bryan delighting her. 'You know what we want to see.'
'Bryan.' Mrs. Pritchard was directly before him now, her luscious breasts jutting not an inch from his trembling chest. 'The girls… my daughters… tell me you hurry into this barn at least four times on your mowing day.'
'Six last week,' corrected Sandy. 'Always when we're in the yard or by the pool.'
'And we know what he does when he sneaks out on his job. He peeks at us and plays with it.' Pammy was ecstatic at the guilt in Bryan's face.
'With what? This?' Mrs. Pritchard backed half a step away and looked skeptically at the rubbery length curled over the edge of his trapped fist. 'That? But how?'
Three pretty faces, smiling and mischief-loaded, were at waist height, kneeling before his trapped body. 'You'll see how,' promised Pammy. 'I saw it just when it went hard under his show-off trunks last week once and it's really unbelieva – wow! WOW! Look!'
